#shotgun answers

[dewdropdinosaur]

Vox Shotgun Kiss

Summary: Y/N is itching for a hit and unluckyily for them, Vox is more than happen to help out. Warning: Make-out, smoking, etc. PG-13 Inspired/for my friend @macabr3-barbi3

Club V vibrated with nightlife, the bass bouncing off the walls in disorientating waves of sex, bodies mingling with no intention but desire, and worst of all: you sat alone typing away at your cubicle above it all. The noise was an annoyance that pestered you day in and day out, the job Vox’s assistant never said it would be easy. In fact, the application did say ‘Not for the weakling.’. You had assumed that was Velvette’s wording. 

Running a hand through your hair, the world was slowly becoming more and more aggravating. It had been hours since your last inhale, an excruciating amount of time since the fabricated relief filled your lungs. Just one, that’s all you need. One hit and you’d be fine the rest of the evening. Fingers scratching against your desk, manicured nails bitten to the bone; you could hold off no longer. 

The door to Vox’s office stood merely a few feet away, the dark and light blue barrier between you and a moment of deliverance. Subjecting yourself to the destiny to befall you, you stood silently and walked towards the door; hand hovering over it in a resignment. Maybe you shouldn’t knock, what if he was busy? Well, he was always busy–

“Are you going to continue standing there like a goldfish or would you like to enter my office?”

With a low huff, you entered the office at the loudspeaker’s announcement. Way to announce your entry to the whole floor. Closing the door behind you with a soft click, your attention turned to the man himself. 

Vox sat confidently at his desk, a pair of glasses sat neatly on his face, scanning over files and paperwork of various kinds. You’d always wondered why he needed them, his head was a TV, shouldn’t he be able to see just fine? But alas, those glasses sat perched on his face in a way that never failed to make your stomach flip. 

“What do you want Y/N?”

Rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly, you stepped forward. 

“I was wondering…if you possibly kept any cigarettes on you?”

Peering upward, now giving you his full attention, Vox pulls down his glasses. Your question had shocked him, no doubt, something so innocent as you smoked?

“Didn’t take you for the type to indulge, doll face.” With a snap of his fingers, a drawer opened from his desk. His slender fingers curled around a half-used cigarette. Smirking as he twirled it in his hand, he watched as your eyes widened in an intense desire for it. 

“I had used this earlier in the day but I suppose you could use it…if you asked nicely.”

There it was, the catch. There was always a catch with him, some little something that gave him power over anyone. Staring at the burnt butt of the cigarette, was the hit worth it? Stepping toward Vox, coweringly slow, you reach your hand out briefly. Narrowing your gaze, it all seems too easy. Just ask nicely and you get a reward, nothing is easy in Hell. 

“Can I…please…have the cigarette?”

“Why of course, sweetheart. Since you asked so nicely…”

Lighting the cigarette, the smoke wisps from its used leaves. 

“Well, come and get it.”

Reaching out, you grasp desperately for the relief you have sought. The one thing that can stop it all and you can finally get some semblance of peace. Suddenly, Vox smirked and held the cigarette to his lips, inhaling a deep puff of smoke. 

Your facade cracks and you can feel your heart sink, the anxiety rising in your chest. 

“Why you motherfu–”

As you think your fate has been sealed, Vox grasps the nape of your neck and connects your lips in a fiery kiss.

Taken aback, you try to pull your lips away only to be hit with a puff of smoke, wispy ambrosia. Sighing into the kiss, you push your lips further into his desperately; hands finding their way to his shoulders to crush his body closer to you…closer to your repose. He releases the rest of the smoke into your lips, mesmerized as you greedily inhale it all. His lips eventually trail lower, the smoke long gone from his mouth. He lets out a low growl as you lean closer to him, your breath ghosting over his face, the heat of your body pressed flush against his. He can feel your heartbeat, rapid and thudding in your chest. Whatever was in the cigarette, had you long gone, eyes blown and brain fuzzy with the intensity of the hit. 

He brings his mouth to your exposed neck, and his lips graze over your skin, trailing hot, wet kisses along the sensitive flesh. You let out soft mewls and moans of appreciation at his affections, your whole body felt like it was on fire and could only be quenched by his touch, sparks flying off his fingertips onto your hot sensitive skin. Vox’s lips continue to travel along your neck, his tongue tracing a wet path along your skin as he feels you shiver and moan under his touch. 

A weakness is only as good as a person who knows how to wield other’s against themselves.

“Want another taste doll face?”

You couldn’t refuse.

[yutamayo]

[14dayswithyou]

Just a general thing, is there a specific reason Ren/REDACTED was made to be younger than Angel by a year?

✦゜ANSWERED: I swear I've answered this question somewhere before?? But it's mainly because I didn't want there to be an awkward age gap between the main love interest and the player! I know some folks in the community are well into their early 30's-40's by now, and I figured it'd be weird for them to romance someone who was like... barely 20 years old sldgnsjkk

As for being a year younger specifically; it's purely for the sake of the narrative! Certain (spoilery) events between Ren and Angel happen when they were children, and when laid out, it all aligns perfectly with Ren being a year younger.

However!! In saying all of that: if you are 18, Ren will also be 18. He'd just be a month/day/hour younger than you (until the day you turn 19... Then I personally manifest into the 14DWY world and factory reset his ass lmao)

[wolfawaycamp]

Hello! I would like to request a realistic aftermath of the shotgun amputation ;)

🐰 Okay, so, this was discussed on Discord prior to Torch's request (thank you Torch!) and Cas really thought we should get to see Kaitlyn plucking buckshot out of Dylan's arm. You're not actually supposed to do that, but it IS realistic that a bunch of teens/young adults might not know that. This is another long one from me because I'm incapable of being brief, but so far I've I've gotten positive feedback on my 'ficlets' that are so long they're basically just one-shots. I started my Quarry fanfic writing career with chainsaw hurt/comfort, so of course I had to inject some of that here! Hope you enjoy! :3

*******

When Ryan shoots Dylan’s hand off with his shotgun on the floor of the radio hut, he really doesn’t have time to panic. Some kind of black venom is visibly spreading up Dylan’s arm and, at that moment, Ryan agrees that it needs to be stopped. So, he stops it. He doesn’t second guess that decision at the time, because something huge and ugly is stalking the two of them and their fellow counselors. The fact that he’s just blown the left hand off the boy he’s spent the better part of the evening casually flirting with, the one he kissed for the first time a few hours before, can barely sink in because he’s trying so hard to finish engineering the feedback loop and keep them all alive. But once he’s sounded that earsplitting noise and chased the immediate danger away, Ryan’s better able to take in the horror of the scene that remains.

Dylan lies in a pool of his own blood, and the unrecognizable lump of tissue that used to be a hand sits inches from the mutilated end of his wrist. There are holes in the floor where buckshot has passed through Dylan’s flesh and bone entirely and into the aged wood. Ryan, still fueled by adrenaline, tells him his plan worked. He is genuinely impressed with Dylan’s ingenuity.

“It did the trick,” he says, “Nice work, Dylan.”

The bloodied boy on the floor begins laughing in a way Ryan finds deeply concerning, as if he’s completely delirious, before the chaos in front of him seems to sober him up. “Oh fuck, my hand!” Dylan exclaims, like he’s just noticed it. “Why did you do that?!”

“You told me to!” Ryan bites back in disbelief.

Does he really not remember?

“That was a bad idea,” Dylan admits, still holding pressure to the bleeding stump of his left arm, “aw fuck.”

At that very moment, the door bursts open, scaring the absolute shit out of both the boys. It’s Kaitlyn, likely having heard the gunshot and certainly the sound that followed. She’s come to see what’s become of the two of them. 

Kaitlyn manages to get out the words, “You guys all right… in… here?” before she begins processing the gruesome scene in front of her. Ryan watches her take in the handless Dylan, the pool of blood, and the detached former hand in silence, her mouth hanging slightly open for a moment.

“‘Sup Kaitlyn?” Dylan drawls from the pool of blood he’s lying in. He gives her a slight nod as a greeting since his one remaining hand is busy holding back arterial spray from where his other hand was once attached.

“What the fuck?!” Kaitlyn says breathlessly, “what the fuck happened here?!” 

“I—he—that thing bit Dylan’s hand and I, uh…” Ryan struggles to explain the situation, struggles to even understand it himself. 

Kaitlyn looks from Dylan to Ryan and back again, over and over, finally clocking Ryan’s bloodied face and the shotgun in his hand. Her shock gives way to fury. “Oh—oh my god, Ryan, what the fuck have you done?!”

“He—” Ryan points at Dylan like a child tattling to an adult, “he told me to!”

“I would really like for the record to show,” Dylan says, entirely too steady for the state he’s in, “that I said ‘cut it off.’ Not shoot. Cut. There’s a perfectly good chainsaw right over there.” He jerks his head toward the workbench where the chainsaw sits along with the other power tools.

“Why?! Dylan, why on earth would you say that?!” Kaitlyn asks. She wheels around to face Ryan without giving Dylan a chance to answer, “and why would you listen to him?!”

Kaitlyn glares at Ryan like she might bite him. He thinks he would probably deserve that. He can’t seem to get a word out to explain why blasting a hand off with a shotgun seemed like a good idea at the time but, for better or worse, Dylan is still fairly talkative despite his devastating injury.

“Hey, it’s okay Kaitlyn,” Dylan says, trying his best to sound normal and not quite achieving it, “you kinda had to be here to get the full effect, I guess, but there was this black stuff going up my arm, and we had to stop it before it got any higher, and this did stop it! I’m okay, really… I mean, I’m not, but it doesn’t hurt. I don’t even feel it. Which is… weird, right? I feel like having your hand shot off should hurt more than this.”

“It’s probably the adrenaline,” Kaitlyn explains, “or else you’re going into shock. Either way you’re going to be in a world of hurt sooner or later. You’ve probably got a bunch of buckshot still in your arm. Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t leave the two of you alone for a minute.”

Ryan thinks this is a somewhat unfair assessment of what they’ve accomplished here, given that Dylan’s plan and Ryan’s execution of it saved Kaitlyn’s ass as well as theirs. Dylan, for his part, laughs at Kaitlyn, because he’s apparently gone insane and lost all fear of death. Kaitlyn looks like she’s considering snatching Ryan’s gun, blowing Dylan’s head off, and calling it a total loss instead of trying to patch him up. She inhales deeply and lets it back out, as if meditative breathing will repair the rift in reality they’re currently experiencing.

“Ryan get the first aid kit,” she says, her tone more measured now, “we have to stop the bleeding before we move him, but if we can get Dylan down to the poolhouse, we’ll at least have running water to rinse this wound off. That’s where I sent Abi and Nick when I headed up here.” Kaitlyn kneels next to Dylan, then she grabs his arm roughly and he cries out in pain. “Stop moving so much!” she snaps, though the boy with the shot-off hand has barely moved a muscle.

“Fucking hell, Kaitlyn, be careful!” Ryan barks at her, and Kaitlyn’s head whips to the side to face him with a challenging look.

“Oh, I’m sorry Ryan, should I be as careful as you were when you turned Dylan’s hand into raw fucking meatloaf?” The boys are speechless at her outburst.

Wow, Kaitlyn’s being a kind of a bitch, Ryan thinks, and then it clicks in Ryan’s head that she’s not actually angry, not at him or at Dylan, she’s afraid. This is what fear looks like on Kaitlyn Ka, who he’d mistakenly thought was fearless. It’s raw and ferocious. Other than Jacob, who she’s known most of her life, Dylan’s the person she’s closest to at camp. Kaitlyn expresses her concern like a mother bear and if Ryan isn’t careful he really might get mauled by her before whatever the fuck bit Dylan gets a chance to sink its teeth into him.

Kaitlyn fashions a tourniquet out of bandages and a screwdriver, warning Dylan that it’s going to hurt, and Dylan winces as she twists the metal tool over and over to tighten it around his forearm, just below his elbow. She hands him a bottle of what appears to be ibuprofen from the nurse’s station, saying it’s the last of the supply after she gave some to Nick. 

“Ooh, fun,” Dylan says, throwing back the pills and swallowing them dry, and Ryan can feel Kaitlyn rolling her eyes at him even if he can’t see it.

The bleeding appears to stop, though there’s so much blood already that it’s difficult to tell. It seems stable enough that the three of them can set out for the poolhouse. Dylan is a bit wobbly at first but once he gets a few steps in he seems steady on his feet. Kaitlyn and Ryan flank him with Kaitlyn on the left holding onto his injured arm. Ryan carries the first aid kit with him, even though there’s another one in the poolhouse. It can’t hurt to have more supplies.

On the way, they get into a minor argument about whether the pellets of buckshot from the shotgun shell should be removed from Dylan’s arm or left in. Ryan thinks they should come out, he’s seen that in a number of TV shows and movies and while he knows those aren’t always accurate, he doesn’t think it seems right to leave foreign bodies in a wound. Kaitlyn is more hesitant. She knows that doctors will remove pellets from wounds but if they’re deep they might do more damage trying to remove them. In the end, Dylan says it’s his arm and therefore they’re his buckshot pellets and he should get a say, and he thinks they should compromise and get the ones that seem close enough to the surface to grab with tweezers and leave the others.

When the three of them make it into the poolhouse, Abi has Nick laid out by the showers, resting on a stack of rolled towels. She turns to them, saying “I was wondering when you guys would…” and is cut off at the sight of Dylan’s bloody arm stump. She shrieks. “Oh my god, ohh my god Dylan, what happened?!” Abi is keeping her eyes off of Dylan’s arm. She looks like she might cry, or faint, and Ryan watches, stunned, as Dylan tries to comfort her instead of the other way around.

“It’s okay Abi,” he says, a little too jovially, “just a flesh wound.”

“It’s literally not,” Ryan corrects him, thinking of the bits of bright white bone he could see in the remains of Dylan’s obliterated hand, and Dylan shakes his head at him to keep him from saying anything else.

Kaitlyn explains the situation much more succinctly than either of the boys could, then she sends Abi to find the poolhouse first aid kit while she and Ryan drag Dylan over to the sinks to rinse his wound in warm water. Dylan flinches when they direct the flow of the water over the end of his wrist but he doesn’t pull away. As the coagulated blood is rinsed away, Ryan can see exposed bone at the end of Dylan’s arm and several perfectly round holes that, as Kaitlyn predicted, almost certainly contain pieces of buckshot. The sight of it makes his stomach clench with guilt and worry.

Kaitlyn sits on the floor, picking through the two first aid kits for what she needs. She assembles gauze, more bandages, a small set of forceps, only slightly larger than standard tweezers, that Ryan assumes were intended for pulling splinters out of campers, some rubbing alcohol, an empty glass bottle she’s found to corral the pellets in—Ryan thinks it likely once contained apple juice, though the label has been peeled off—and a lidocaine spray intended for sunburns. It’s the best they have, under the circumstances.

Kaitlyn tells Ryan to join her on the floor and instructs Dylan to essentially sit between Ryan’s legs. Dylan raises an eyebrow at this and Ryan sighs and gestures at him to hurry up. Dylan sits where he’s told.

“This is not going to be fun,” Kaitlyn warns Dylan, then she looks to Ryan and says, “you’re going to have to hold him down, hold his arm still so I don’t cause any more damage.” 

Ryan swallows and holds Dylan’s left arm down, pinning it between his own arm and his bent knee with his hand steadying the wounded forearm just below the wrist. He reaches over Dylan’s right shoulder with his right arm and presses his hand to the middle of the injured boy’s chest, encouraging Dylan to lean back against him. It’s already pretty intimate, with Dylan's head resting on Ryan’s shoulder, and then Dylan grabs Ryan’s hand with his and interlocks their fingers, needing something to hold onto.

“Okay,” Dylan tells Kaitlyn, “let’s get this over with.”

Kaitlyn dunks the forceps in the rubbing alcohol and sprays around the wound and all the pellet holes she can find with the lidocaine spray. It’s not very strong, and she tells Dylan it’s only going to numb the surface, everything below that he’s going to feel. He nods, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, and Kaitlyn gets to work.

The first pellet is close to the surface and Ryan watches it pop out of Dylan’s skin easily with the fascination some people feel for those pimple extraction videos online. Kaitlyn drops it into the glass bottle where it makes a satisfying plinking sound.

“Oh!” says Dylan, that wasn’t so—OW!” He’s spoken too soon, and before Dylan can finish his statement, Kaitlyn has gone back in for another pellet. This one must be deeper, she has to fish around where the anesthetic spray hasn’t been able to reach before it comes out. Dylan has a vice-grip on Ryan’s hand by the time this one joins the other in the glass bottle.

“Two down,” Kaitlyn says, “only… six or so to go?”

“Awesome,” Dylan says sarcastically, and even in the dim light of the poolhouse, Ryan thinks he looks paler than usual.

Dylan is clearly in pain now as Kaitlyn digs for buckshot in his forearm and Ryan feels terrible about the choices he’s made. He’d thought the shotgun would be cleaner than the chainsaw, leave less chance for infection than a rusty tool Chris Hackett uses to carve up firewood, but Kaitlyn doesn’t seem to think it would’ve make that big a difference. She had warned him about the shotgun’s spread earlier, and though he’d taken the shot pretty close to his target, they certainly wouldn’t be playing this very advanced game of Operation right now if he’d gone for the chainsaw instead. On top of everything, the light from Abi’s phone flashlight keeps wavering, making it difficult for Kaitlyn to see what she’s doing.

“For fuck’s sake, Abi, can’t you hold that thing steady?!” Ryan snaps before he can stop himself.

“Ryan!” Kaitlyn chastises him as another pellet of buckshot clinks into the glass bottle.  

“I’m trying! You know the sight of blood makes me nauseous!” Abi nearly sobs the words and Ryan immediately feels bad, realizes he can, in fact, feel even worse than he had a moment ago. He’d forgotten how much she hates blood. She’d nearly fainted earlier in the summer when one of her campers had a nosebleed. It’s a rough night for all of them, certainly roughest for Dylan and Nick, but Ryan finds some sympathy for Abi—it’s a particularly bad night for anyone who hates the sight of blood.

“Sorry,” he mutters lamely.

“It��s all right,” Abi says, “I’ll try to do better.”

Ryan doesn’t think of himself as having a particularly comforting presence, but for Dylan he does his best, murmuring a steady stream of reassuring nonsense like he might if his little sister crawled in bed with him after having a nightmare back home. “It’s okay,” he says, “it’s okay, you’re okay. Just hang on, all right?This’ll be over soon. I’ve got you. Just stay with me, Dylan. I’m here. I’m right here and I’ve got you.” 

It’s bullshit, he knows it and Dylan probably knows it too—his wounded friend is in bad shape and Ryan hasn’t got shit, nothing is under control and nothing is okay, but Dylan squeezes his hand, his head turned so the right side of his face is pressed against Ryan’s shoulder, and Ryan can tell he’s trying very hard to be brave. Dylan holds back from crying out for the most part, expressing his pain through bitten off groans that he tries but can’t quite silence. Occasionally, he sucks air through his teeth and swears. Dylan’s trembling a little and sweating and he sniffles from time to time because he can’t keep the tears from streaming down his face, dampening the fabric of Ryan’s Cult Damage t-shirt.

Kaitlyn digs for a pellet at the very end of Dylan’s wrist, and he’s completely quiet for a moment, then he goes limp in Ryan’s arms.

“Oh, shit. Dylan?” Ryan hears the panic in his own voice when he speaks.

“Fuck, he passed out.” Kaitlyn pats at Dylan’s cheek, not all that gently but not quite hard enough to qualify as a smack. It does nothing to rouse him. Her fingers press into the side of his neck to feel his pulse, but she doesn’t seem overly concerned with whatever she finds there. Ryan can feel Dylan breathing, but he’s terrified by this development just the same.

“What? Why would that happen?!” He demands of Kaitlyn. “Why now?”

“I don’t know!” Kaitlyn says, “Pain, I guess. Shock? Maybe that last pellet was near a nerve? I barely scraped a B in anatomy.”

“Blood loss?” Abi offers, her expression grave. She looks over at Nick, who adjusts his position a little, and then turns her attention back to Dylan.

“Let’s just get this finished,” Kaitlyn says, “then we can get him cleaned up.” 

She plucks three more pellets from Dylan’s arm, dropping them into the bottle, and then declares that if there are any more, he’ll need an x-ray to find them and trying to dig for them blindly would do way more harm than good. She sends Abi to the sink for a couple of wet washcloths and Kaitlyn wipes down Dylan’s arm while Abi dabs at his face.

Dylan begins to stir, finally, as Kaitlyn is working to bandage his wound. Ryan watches his face intently as he comes around, his brows scrunching and relaxing, eyes moving behind his closed lids. He groans softly before his eyes flutter open and he blinks up at Ryan, seeming to search Ryan’s face for clues as to what the fuck is even happening right now. 

“Dylan,” Ryan says, relief washing over him, “hey! You’re awake.” 

“G’morning Hacketteers,” Dylan rasps weakly, his voice a pale imitation of the one that has boomed out over the PA all summer. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Cap’n Crunch,” Kaitlyn says, rattling the bottle of pellets, “it’s the ‘Oops! All Buckshot’ flavor, unfortunately.”

“Oh, no thanks,” Dylan snorts, “I’m full.” He looks down at the bandaged end of his left forearm. “Though… less full than I used to be, apparently.”

Dylan’s jokes are as obnoxious as ever and Ryan is thanking the cosmic space gods that he’s coherent enough to make them.

As Kaitlyn finishes taping up the bandages, Dylan looks down at his remaining hand and seems to realize it’s still loosely entwined with Ryan’s. He grips Ryan’s hand and Ryan squeezes his right back.

“Thanks you guys,” Dylan says, almost uncharacteristically earnest, and Ryan is reminded of their conversation about his blasé persona and ‘Dylan-Dylan,’ which feels like it happened weeks ago.

“Don’t mention it,” Kaitlyn says with a smile, “just, never do anything this stupid again if you can help it, please.”

Dylan nods. Ryan doesn’t really need to hold onto him anymore, but he is just the same.

“I’m just glad you’re still with me, buddy,” Ryan says in a half whisper.

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, Ryan. You know how the old saying goes, ‘hand a man a gun, he shoots for a day, shoot a man’s hand off with your gun and you have to, um, let him hold your hand in the hand that he has left. Forever. Or at least for one date. But probably forever.’”

“Yeah,” Ryan deadpans, “I can see how that became a proverb for sure. Real snappy.”

Kaitlyn bursts out laughing. Even Abi giggles at this, putting a hand on Dylan’s shoulder before hurrying back over to check on Nick.

“What? He can shoot my hand off but I can’t shoot my shot? Seems unfair. I—”

Dylan’s words are cut off when Ryan leans down and kisses him on the mouth, his hands pressing to either side of Dylan’s face. It’s the only thing he can think to do to express his relief and concern and gratitude at that moment, to say that he’s sorry but also not. And another feeling is in the mix there, something soft but undeniable and deeply unfamiliar, something that, Ryan’s terrified to realize, might actually be love.

“Let’s save our strength with some quiet time, hm?” he says, still holding Dylan’s face in his hands.

Dylan looks back at him, awestruck. He nods, slowly, and then there’s a gunshot outside. A howl of inhuman agony follows and then a splash. 

Something big has just landed in the pool.

[cherubchoirs]

V1 running CYBERGRIND.EXE and Gabriel cozying up to the new improvised spaceheater

diagram of thermodynamics

[cotl-inspiteofyou]

(been a while since I've been here so I make my return!)

To Shamura: . . . Alright is luck just leading me right to the bishops just because it wants me to die or is there something I'm missing here.

Either way please down hurt me.

*Dark was holding his shotgun close, if Shamura were to attack that would be a shotgun blast to the face and then Dark would flee, if sparing Dark would just stay there paralyzed with fear. But if your wanting to do something else, just do what you want.*

[rrat-king]

re: your tags on this post https://www.tumblr.com/rrat-king/748419346519441408?source=share :

say fig and Kristen….. say that. truly. sorry I’m a little tipsy rn but this is SO them. fig being like no homo but i paid all 7 of my dollars to ragh for this one (1) poorly rolled joint and listen it just makes sense to share. it just makes sense dude

no this is literally so so them it is ridiculous. their weird president/gaurd dog relationship of being so deeply queer and devoted + kristen can't smoke for shit so fig won't let her take a hit if she's just gonna waste it so instead fig just has her shot gun off her instead. and kristen's a huge fucking lightweight so it only takes her a little bit of shotgun to be gone. and they get to kiss a little. it's beautiful really

[wordsmith30]

A parallel I haven’t seen much talk about: how Lilith goes on the warpath for Mary the same way Mary went on the warpath for Shannon (and how they both fall into Vincent’s trap).

Season one Lilith was all about the OCS (or rather her ambition for the Halo). She told Mary not a day after Shannon’s murder that she needed to think about the mission, not her own personal agenda (which was not only hypocritical, but as Beatrice said, unfair). And in that same scene, she dismissed Mary as not being a true member of the team because she wasn’t a nun and didn’t take vows like the rest of them. She was a free agent who operated on her own terms.

But after their tearful reconciliation in the catacombs, Vincent’s betrayal, and Mary’s subsequent disappearance under an army of wraith demons, Lilith’s priorities shift significantly. The start of season two finds her as the new lone wolf as she hunts down Vincent herself. And while the OCS is just as interested in finding him to get to Adriel, Lilith’s only concern is Mary. She’s ready to tear him apart herself, just as Mary threatened that man in 1×02, and then later goes through a whole squadron with her bare hands.

The part that really gets me, though, is Lilith and Vincent’s scene in the car. She’s finally got a lead after two months, finally has a location on Mary. And despite being outnumbered, despite being about to walk into Adriel’s fortress without backup, there isn’t one shred of fear or hesitation. She just tells Vincent to signal the guards. “Put a foot out of place and I’ll –”

“You’ll kill me. I know,” Vincent says.

A small smile plays around Lilith’s mouth. “I won’t kill you,” she says easily. “I’d never take that pleasure away from Mary.”

She gives him a pointed look and Vincent just grimaces before they climb out of the car.

Vincent is jovial as he greets the guards and then gestures to Lilith with an outstretched arm. “I have brought home a friend.”

And Lilith, chuckling, slides right into the embrace like it’s nothing, even putting her head on his shoulder. They walk through the gates just like that, leaning against each other.

It’s such a cruel twist of the knife to think that that’s how they were before. We’ve only really seen Vincent’s one-on-one dynamic with Ava, Mary, and Beatrice, but this ease, this familiarity with Lilith is something completely different. Given her family’s history with the OCS and her claim that she’s trained harder than anyone else, she was probably one of the closest to him.

Their embrace is that of a father and daughter. This was someone she could laugh with, lean on, confide in. Someone she trusted to take care of her. Now it’s just a part she plays on paper so that she can get her real family back.

[the-binding-blade]

some angel designs i’ve been playing around with

[kiefbutter]

okay question. Imagine you’re adam stanheight and you know lawrence pre-trap. How hard is it to get lawrence to try just one joint? (And how hard would it be if this was POST trap instead?)

I LOVE THIS QUESTION i can really imagine that pre-trap lawrence would be way harder to convince, i think he would acknowledge and accept the medicinal use for it but overall i think he’d straight up tell adam that he’s not interested in smoking and that he probably never will be (especially due to the stigma around weed around the early 2000s) but AFTER the trap. i feel like it wouldnt be too hard?? i feel like he’d definitely put up some resistance and worry about getting dependent on it, but i think over time he’ll take maybe a few puffs of adam’s joint to where he gets a nice little high going, but i feel like he’ll never really let himself get Too too high

[flowerflamestars]

Abbattoir snippet

“Lady Hunger does not ask or accept worship,” the woman raised her brows, more disdainful than offended. “Illyria was once a friend to her, and so she is a friend to us.” Hunger. Cassian recognized the marks on the other, soaring, well-lit walls if nothing else. The facets of Illyrian worship that he’d never gotten to see well-tended, much less grouped together: wind, water, sky. Storm Maiden, Once-drowned Warrior, Grandmother Starlight. What had been taken for so long, Cassian knew nothing else. Lost before he’d ever been born. The niche with what was nearly Feyre’s face- rendered beautiful, awing, familiar but utterly wrong- was much, much smaller. Darker. Littered in writing, names tracing up the wall behind her. Cassian shook his head. “That’s Feyre Archeron.” He tipped back his head, staring at lights so high above they glittered, this stronghold he’d never even heard of. “You- you don’t follow the clans. That’s why you’re here?” She flashed her teeth at him, wings wide as a sky flickering fuller in rage. “The little coward that pretended to be one of us?” A teenager, sitting before a vast stature wielding hammer and tongs, turned all the way around to hiss Cassian’s direction. “That child, ruling in the memory of a man who despised us? We are Illyrian, unlike you. We answer to no one.” “But”- “But nothing,” It was a snarl, and all Cassian could do was look, look at that impossibly perfect, impossibly familiar face. Cassian scrambled forward, after her quick retreating form. “Please. What- the names?” She rounded, robe flaring, showing a paler color up around the edges. “She is old,” the priestess intoned, like Cassian was very small, very stupid, ill-behaving child. Pitiable. “She pays her debt.”

[johntorrington]

almost done reading this john rae biography

[smokestarrules]

What would be your wishlist for a Warrior Nun Season 3?

The season opens with Beatrice’s narration, OR Ava’s narration of the letter she wrote for Bea in s2. 

If neither of those, then the season opens with Ava falling from a portal in the sky as she screams, “REYA, YOU BITCH!” because hilarious continuity. 

Mary comes back. I don't care how, I'll take it. WN Writers, I promise I won't question it for even a millisecond if you bring her back--

I mean. I’ll say Avatrice Reunion Scene, but like. That’s a given. The only question is how and when exactly it’ll happen. 

Camila gets to witness the Reunion, maybe?? The girl’s been fighting for Ava and Beatrice from day one and hasn’t gotten to see them have a Moment. Let her be there!!!

This seems rude, but I’d LOVE to see Beatrice either get hurt (though not dead because No <3) and/or possessed this time and have Ava freak out over her. That would make my day lmfao. 

Lilith comes back to fight with the OCS. I miss her <3

Yasmine gets to kick ass in any way she wants. She can work on information alongside Camila in the bg or!!! She can learn how to fight too and beat people up as well!! whatever she wants I love her!!

There’s a scene where Beatrice (and potentially Ava?) interacts with her parents again, and she finally puts them in their place. 

Again, like. I already know Ava & Beatrice are going to be the absolute softest. I don’t even have to add that here. 

One of the episode titles is from the book of Ruth(!!!).

Beatrice gets to show off her archery skills!!! She said she has them, I wanna see it!!

Father Vincent is revealed as the drunk driver that killed Ava’s mom/paralyzed her?? Idk if that counts as a Wish but my life hasn’t known peace since someone pointed out that his sober years was the same length as Ava’s paralyzation. Jesus fuck imagine. 

Beatrice getting ANOTHER Hallway Fight Scene because she deserves it. Maybe Ava gets to see it this time because she would love to witness something like that.

Switzerland flashback??? 

[juleshollow]

Reese/Dr. Kelly decision

(Episode 4 Spoilers)

This one is pretty straight-forward for me, but the choice I feel is "right" still leaves a guilty, sad aftertaste.

I give Dr. Kelly the tranquilizers.

I see it like this: when Reese starts to transform and Wayne arrives, you find yourself in the middle of a crazy dangerous situation that keeps getting worse. Unless you are Hot, you're powerless to stop it from escalating.

I was presented two bad options: help Dr. Kelly imprison her son again or let Reese murder his mother. I felt helpless because I didn't want any of those outcomes, so how could I make the most out of a situation that was so out of my control? By thinking ahead and picking the alternative that didn't have irreversible consequences.

I want Reese to be free AND happy. There are some things you can't go back from, and killing and eating your mom is one of them (seriously, he didn't need to devour her). No matter how awful Dr. Kelly's parenting was, that's something irredeemable that would clearly hurt Reese as well. Do you think Kaneeka and Stella would treat Reese as if nothing happened? Or that Reese wouldn't carry the guilt with him for the rest of his life? Would he internalize that murder is an acceptable solution to his problems, and weaponize his power again in the future? Reese transforms into something supernatural, but what he does with that power is what can make him a monster.

This turning moment makes me think of how all of Reese's story is about choice. Joan knew her son was different and she tells us that she had no choice but to keep him restrained for everyone's safety. But of course she had a choice. She couldn't know that he would harm anyone, she just feared it. It's the suffering that she inflicts to her son that makes Reese despise her in the end. I love that the game actually gives you the chance to call her out on that ("don't you think it's a self-fulfilling prophecy?").

She absolutely could have done things differently. She could have been honest with Reese about his nature (and how little they knew about it) and educate him to accept and control it. It's her fault that she didn't even consider it. Can you imagine having a super strong gym bro son and making him sick because "he could hurt someone with his powerful build"? That's basically what she does. She imprisons her son on the grounds of possibility, for a crime he hasn't committed and might never commit. She never trusted Reese, never gave him a chance. If she did, Reese could have been a fully functional Jersey Devil (or whatever kind of goblin he is) that used his powers for harmless purposes.

But Dr. Kelly's fear makes her narrow-minded when it comes to Reese. And in Episode 4 she tries to make us buy into her black&white philosophy - she frames the crisis as a situation with only two possible outcomes: either she tranquilizes Reese and locks him up, keeping everyone safe, or Reese kills her and rampages free to terrorize the town. NICE DICHOTOMY IDIOT, WHAT LIES OUTSIDE IT??

As I said, I want a different outcome and I won't let Dr. Kelly trick me into thinking that's impossible. So, despite being powerless to get my way in that moment, I focus on what I can do after. I cannot bring Dr. Kelly back from the dead. I can absolutely break out Reese later, and that's what I intend to do.

Reese transforms and becomes a bit insane PROBABLY because of the influence of the carving (so a bit my fault 😬 sorry I brought unearthly despair to your household, I'm a Scarlet). I hope that it will pass and I'll be able to reason with him when he calms down. I wasn't hot enough to appease you before, pal, I'll give it another try after your nap!

So my intention is to free Reese and maintain his innocence. Let's disrupt the self-fulfilling prophecy before it self-fulfills! There is a better way to do things and it's about time the Kellys hear about it.

I'm determined to do that, but it still feels awful to know that Reese thinks I betrayed him. I barely said a word to Dr. Kelly when she walked me out of the house, because she acted like we were sort of on the same page while all I could think was "you're still wrong and I'm going to get your son out of here as soon as I can, I just didn't want him to gobble you up".

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

okayyyy but what about gemini mars? i see it no so often in idols natal chart, but it gives vibe like really love talk. will it in the bed too? 🤭

Okay- so it's not a popular idol Mars Sign but I do see Gemini placements a lot on in idols and that's because Mercury rules communication, technology etc.

Wonwoo from SVT is the only idol I remember that has a Gemini Mars and yeah-

This post is just not relatable for Gemini Mars but for Gemini/3rd House placements overall.

Gemini/3rd House: Main Kinks

DIRTY TALK! AURALISM! (this actually goes for gemini/3rd House placements in general but heavy on Mars Sign), they love loud sex, moans, whines, whimpers etc. The type to prefer LISTENING to audio p*rn, rather than watching it.

The biggest turn-off for them is silence in the bedroom, they're not the most serious in the bedroom and are the type to enjoy laughing, giggling, smirking during and after sex.

ORAL FIXATION! Gemini has influence over the mouth, tongue and fingers so they typically make you AMAZING at kissing, the type to love lazy make-out sessions, finger-sucking (or getting fingers sucked)...

I've noticed a lot of people with Gemini or 3rd House placements are people who smoke/vape and genuinely enjoy it and not just because they're addicted.

So even something like shotgunning is probably something they might find attractive.

Enjoy!!!

[bloodyarn]

@bloodtwin sent

❝ babsi, have you ever jacked off before ？❞ there's a pause before he blinks. realizes. panic builds. . . . WHAT DID YOU JUST ⸻ ？！ ah, another classic puck speaks before he thinks moment. all right, well, he did think about this question. really very hard, actually. but it slipped past his lips without his permission. you can just ask that of a lady ！ eyes bugging out, he is quick to backtrack, ❝ i mean ！i didn't mean to ask that out loud. i was just thinking since you're so. um, lady-like. and uh, proper. not that that should prevent you from- i mean, you're just so- but, surely you've . . . ？like at least once ⸻ ❞ STOP TALKING ！！！ ❝ never mind ！please don't answer that. forget i asked. ❞

   𝙻𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 .   unprompted interactions ────────────────────────

      If one could fall prone from a conversation,      Babette would possibly be the first person to ever manage that. There was absolutely no amount of vocabulary able to describe how that little proper lady (as he so kindly pointed out) felt. Ashamed, embarrassed, bewildered too. And the hexblood stood still, choking on her breath. Colors in her face shift around the mighty color wheel, settling for a dark red which spread over her nose  &  forked ears.

   Sometimes she wished Puck wasn't so forward.

    It would keep awful situations like these from happening.

Would Babette consider answering him   ?   SHOULD she   ?   As he said, the woman was a true lady. An innocent being, a lamb. A white rose without thorns. Pure in the public eye  &  truthfully, everyone she met knew her as such. Babette, indulging in such unchastity. Scandalous. What was he thinking   ?   Did he imagine her as some vile pervert behind her tent flap   ? ?   Was that the image she painted in Puck's head   ?

     ❝ Puck . . . ! ❞     A scolding (painful) yelp. She bit the inside of her cheek, the warm hue never disappearing for the duration of their awkward talk.    ❝ That is not something you ask a lady   ! ❞

The hag-in-the-making made an effort shutting her tadpole down, silencing it, lest the connection would build  &  reveal the answer without wanting to. 

     ❝ What in the nine hells gave you that idea   ? ? ? ❞